


Burgers & Plaid

by viscouslover



Series: Destiel Smut Brigade "Missed Connections" Fic Dump [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Coming Untouched, Craigslist, Dean in Panties, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Missed Connections, Panty Kink, Personal Ads, Praise Kink, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3638124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscouslover/pseuds/viscouslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>Missed Connection: Burgers and Plaid, m4m</strong><br/>It was overcast. I was running on the treadmill at the gym. You stood in front of the window and ate a bag of burgers under a plaid umbrella. I was sweaty. You were wet. Maybe we can get together and be both.</p><hr/><p>Dean is totally into Castiel. Castiel is totally into Dean. They just haven't met yet.</p><p>With a little help from an international playboy, a magnanimous Queen, and a Cajun teddy bear, this is the story of how they finally figure it out.</p><div>
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	Burgers & Plaid

**Burgers and Plaid, m4m**  
It was overcast. I was running on the treadmill at the gym. You stood in front of the window and ate a bag of burgers under a plaid umbrella. I was sweaty. You were wet. Maybe we can get together and be both.

“No fucking way,” Charlie whispers under her breath as she stops scrolling. There’s only one asshole in this city with a plaid umbrella who would be so brazen. And if anyone can sexually frustrate a man with nothing but lumberjack chic and poor eating habits, it’s gotta be Dean Winchester. Charlie may be gay, but she’s not blind. That bowlegged bastard can break some hearts.

She peeks over the edge of her tablet to glare at the doucheturd-in-question. He’s lying on his back, sunk into the overstuffed couch cushions, tossing a lacrosse ball up and catching it again. From what she can gather, the object of this game is fairly simple: don’t drop the hard rubber ball directly on your dick. Not exactly rocket science.

“Hey, Dean?”

Dean catches the ball in his hand and rolls over, propping himself onto an elbow to face Charlie. “How may I serve you today, my Queen?”

“Have you checked the forecast lately?”

“No, why? You planning on going somewhere?”

“No. Just it looked a little cloudy on the walk over here. Thought maybe it might rain. Do you still have that old plaid umbrella I could borrow, just in case?”

“Knock yourself out. S’by the front door, next to my boots.”

Target confirmed!

Next, she peers over at Benny. He’s hunched over his smartphone, which looks comically small in his burly hands. Someone should introduce that Cajun studmuffin to the magic of the iPad. She taps at her screen, adding a message to Benny that they should keep this between themselves before sharing the link.

Dean’s the only one of them who doesn’t seem to think Missed Connections Friday is a worthy cause. Something about profiting off the misery of others. Charlie thinks he’s just a Luddite, afraid to admit he’s not sure how the Internet works. For chrissakes, the man _paid_ for a translation app. He probably isn’t even aware that Craigslist exists.

“Why are you asking me about the weather?” Dean asks. “I thought you were some Google-fu ninja. Did your nerd powers finally dry up?”

Charlie grabs the pillow from behind her back and chucks it at Dean’s head. He ducks in time to avoid the blow, barely getting his hand up in time to deflect the pillow smack into Benny’s face. Benny can’t be bothered to look up from his smartphone, but does extend the effort of lifting a middle finger.

“Children,” Benny sighs, “don’t make me get up and whoop the both of ya.”

“Benny,” Charlie says, “you’re only four years older than I am. Don’t you ‘children’ me!”

Dean rises up and leans across to lay a wet, sloppy kiss on the side of Charlie’s face. “Now, c’mon lil sis, let’s stop the fussin’ and the feudin’ before we anger Pa.”

Charlie pushes Dean’s face away with one hand and rubs at her cheek with the back of the other. “And _you_ are barely six months older than me, handmaiden, so don’t try to pull that shit on me either.”

“Yeah, well, _Your Majesty_ , I seem to recall being the first monarch in this motley crew thanks to that six months. Or did you forget I was senior prom king while you were still a nubile young junior adjusting your braces?”

“And now you’re a thirty-seven-year-old single dude who spends every Friday night re-watching Star Trek: The Next Generation, while his rugged-but-married business partner and wildly attractive but _completely_ homosexual female best friend surf the Internet,” Charlie says, “So, you wanna pop on season six or are you gonna tell me again how cool you were in high school?”

“C’mon now, Red,” Benny interjects, “no need to be cruel. You know Freckles here just can’t resist our combined charm. Now, are you two done bickering or do I need to send you both to time out?”

“No, Benny,” they chime in faux-chagrined unison.

Charlie’s tablet buzzes and she opens the reply email from Benny. He’s suggesting they respond to the ad on Dean’s behalf. According to Benny, Dean’s been pining over some mysterious blue-eyed runner for long enough. She knew there was a reason she loved that teddy bear of a man. Charlie can’t help the self-satisfied smirk that pulls at her lips as she hacks into Dean’s email and sends a reply.

 **Ready for a Workout RE: burgers & plaid**  
Meet me outside the gym tomorrow evening at seven. I’ll bring the burgers if you bring that body.

 

* * *

 

Castiel is running ten minutes late. That’s not a particularly unusual thing. He’s often caught up in one task or another, called away for the latest company- or family-wide emergency. Still, he doesn’t prefer to keep people waiting. Even if it is only a rendezvous with his lousy, gadabout cousin, he will always do his utmost to be as punctual as possible. Luckily for Castiel, despite Balthazar edging fifty, the man has yet to make an appointment on-time in his entire adult life.

As predicted, when Castiel rounds the corner and reaches their designated meeting spot, Balthazar is nowhere to be seen. Instead, there’s a different familiar face sitting on the bench located in front of the treadmill-lined window of his gym.

It’s an enticing view: the way that he’s sprawled his arms carelessly across the bench as if he’s used to doing exactly as he pleases. The way he appears to be the poster child for boyish Midwestern wholesomeness. The man’s perpetual fondness for plaid flannel overshirts, well-worn jeans, and permanent stubble all add up to be just masculine enough to stop his full lips and delicate eyelashes from pulling him into pretty boy territory. Of course, this isn’t the first time Castiel has noticed the man.

“I’ve seen you here before,” Castiel says, by way of greeting.

The man seems startled to be addressed. He straightens his back and stiffens his posture, pulling his arms close to his sides when his eyes land on Castiel. “You have?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, “I work out at this gym. You’re often sitting on this bench while I’m here. Usually eating.” The man’s green eyes widen and Castiel continues, “Do you enjoy watching people work out?”

“I- I don’t. I mean,” The man stutters, “I see, but I’m not, you know, watching. I mean, I’m not even paying attention.”

“Is it that eating in front of others gives you some sort of perverse pleasure?” Castiel asks.

The man turns to Castiel with an incredulous look and his next words come out clear and clipped, “I’m not some pervert.”

“Of course not,” Castiel tilts his head to the side and narrows his focus on the man, “I didn’t say you were.”

“Oh. Right. Um.” The man drops eye contact with Castiel, rubbing the skin of his left wrist. It’s endearing. The motion draws Castiel’s attention to the fast food bag gripped in the man’s hand. It still appears to be full. Castiel mentally notes that this is the first time he hasn’t seen the man immediately dig in to the contents of his meal. Perhaps he’s waiting for someone as well. The man coughs and thrusts his right hand towards Castiel, eyes still downcast, “I’m Dean.”

“Castiel.” He shakes Dean’s hand in a warm, firm grip.

Dean lifts his eyes again, looking up at Castiel through those pretty eyelashes, and smiles a crooked grin, a soft blush highlighting his freckled cheeks, “Nice to meet you.”

“Officially,” Castiel amends. He doesn’t miss how Dean’s eyes keep flickering to his lips.

“Right,” Dean’s blush deepens and he lets their hands fall apart, “officially.”

“You, uh, here to work out?” Dean asks, gesturing at the gym in front of them.

“Not tonight. I’m actually waiting to meet someone.”

“Right,” Dean repeats. “Right.”

A few minutes pass between them after that, Castiel standing off to the side of the bench as they both watch the gym-goers complete their workout regimens. Castiel glances at his watch. It’s only fifteen minutes past the hour and he realizes that it could be some time before Balthazar joins him.

“Mind if I sit down?”

Dean shrugs, hands now tucked between his knees, “Sure, s’a free country.”

“Not in my experience,” Castiel says and takes his seat.

“What’s that?”

“I said, ‘not in my experience.’ I find that everything in America comes at a price. You can’t have anything unless you’re willing to pay for it.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

“So if you let me sit here, there must be a price.”

“I’m not gonna charge you anything to sit on a public bench, dude.”

“Not every transaction involves money, Dean.” Castiel lets his eyes slide up and down Dean’s torso in one long, purposed motion. “There must be something I have that you want.”

Castiel doesn’t miss the way the slight flush that crosses Dean’s cheeks brightens at the suggestion, but the other man changes the subject.

“So who’re ya waiting on?”

“Balthazar. We work out here together because it’s halfway between both of our homes. It’s become a natural meeting point for other activities.”

“Right,” Dean says, “makes sense.”

Castiel wonders if Dean is typically prone to agreeing with everything people say to him. He does seem like the kind of man who desires to please others.

“So, Balthazar. He your friend or—?”

“Cousin. Friend too, I suppose. We do spend a lot of time together. When he’s not busy with… other activities.”

“Wait, he’s not that asshole in the deep vee who splits his gym time between strolling on the treadmill sipping vitamin water and hitting on the baristas at the juice bar?”

“I thought you said you don’t pay attention?”

“I don’t! I mean, I hardly do. Some things maybe catch my eye. I mean, I’m not blind. But, it’s not like I’m staring or, ya know…” Dean trails off. He’s cute when he’s flustered.

Castiel nudges Dean with his shoulder, trying to show that he was only teasing. He sees a small smile pull at Dean’s lips. “Yes,” Castiel admits, “Balthazar is certainly a vivacious individual.”

Another few moments pass between them, Castiel’s shoulder still pressed against Dean’s. It feels warm and solid; calm and comfortable. Castiel has a full life - his work and his friends have always provided him with plenty of companionship and purpose - but feeling the heat seep between them, Castiel thinks he could make space for Dean. At least for a night.

“I’m waiting for someone too,” Dean says, breaking the silence.

Castiel notes Dean’s empty ring finger before asking, “Girlfriend?”

“Uh, no.” Dean rubs at the back of his neck and coughs roughly to clear his throat. “Benny.”

“Ah,” Castiel can’t help the way his face falls as he nods in understanding. “Boyfriend.”

“God no.” Dean’s nose wrinkles and his lips quirk in a way that resembles someone who has just smelled bad fish. “Benny’s more or less an extra brother at this point. The only relationship I’m in right now is with my baby.”

“Oh,” Castiel feels his brow furrow in confusion, “you have… a child?”

A surprised laugh bursts from Dean’s lungs. “Definitely not. I leave that for the responsible adults.” A fond smile crosses Dean’s lips. “Baby’s my car.”

When he says it like that, delivered with such love and faint pride, Castiel can definitely hear the capital ‘B’ in the name.

A noise trills from Dean’s pocket and he retrieves his phone, frowning at the screen.

“Something wrong?”

“Benny has to cancel. Trouble with the rugrats at home.”

“Anything serious?”

“Nah, just a nasty case of diaper rash. But it looks like it’s all hands on deck.” Dean pockets the phone and frowns at the paper sack clutched in his other hand. He tilts his head towards the sodas sitting at his feet and quirks an eyebrow. It would almost look nonchalant if Castiel hadn’t noticed the nervous twist of Dean’s mouth. “Don’t suppose you like burgers?”

Castiel is not sure why Dean would be unsure of himself in this situation. With handsome features and a natural, strong build, he certainly looks like the type of man who could have anyone he wanted. Perhaps Dean is embarrassed at having had his friend cancel. Whatever the reason, Castiel is not going to let the opportunity to spend more time with Dean slip past him.

“Hamburgers make me very happy,” Castiel says, reaching to gently remove the bag from Dean’s grip.

 

* * *

 

Dean can’t believe this. He’s actually talking with the hottie from the gym. Not just talking, _flirting_. At least, Dean thinks they’re flirting. They’re crammed together on a bench, trading lingering once-overs, and they’re eating a meal together. That’s flirting, right? If it were a chick pressed against his side like this, Dean wouldn’t doubt it for a second.

But there’s something about this guy, _Castiel_ , that throws Dean for a loop. Starting, of course, with the fact that he’s a _guy_. Not that Dean hasn’t appreciated the male form from time to time over the years - he’s not _blind_ \- but he’s never exactly found himself wondering what the tanned, firm lines of another dude's thighs would feel like under his trembling hands. At least not until now. Or, at least, never in a way that he’d been willing to admit.

Sure, Dean’s a little more flustered right now than he’d be if Castiel were a chick, but that’s to be expected. Dean thought he was just coming here to meet up with Benny. Instead, he’s faced with the living, breathing, walking embodiment of his recent masturbatory fantasies. Oh god, and what a face. Dean’s not one to wax poetic on shit, but the dude is seriously gorgeous, all bright blue eyes and dark, wild hair…

Dean better reel it in before his Pavlovian dick starts drooling at the thought.

“So,” Castiel’s low voice rumbles from his soft, pink mouth, and it does absolutely nothing to spurn Dean’s fantasies, “why do you eat in front of the gym?”

“I dunno,” Dean doesn’t bother lifting his eyes from Castiel’s lips when he answers, “It’s a nice spot that’s close to my favorite burger joint. And it’s easy people watching. Gives me something to do while I chew, y’know?”

Dean watches as Castiel takes a bite of his burger and chews. He didn’t know chewing could be sexy. Somehow, when Castiel does it, it is.

“You’re not worried about the people thinking you're some sort of voyeur?” Castiel asks.

“Uh, no. Pretty sure they’re all too busy checking themselves out in the mirror.”

“What mirror?”

“C’mon, you know,” Dean gestures at the window in front of them, “It’s one of those fancy one-way mirrors. You can see them, but they just see themselves.” He hums around the final bite of his burger; licks a drip that dribbles down his pinky finger. Damn, these burgers are always fucking awesome. He picks up his drink to wash down the last vestiges of deliciousness.

“No, Dean. They aren’t.”

Dean chokes on a mouthful of soda, the sting of carbonation burning his nostrils. “Excuse me?”

“It’s just a regular window.”

“But,” Dean’s mind races for an explanation, “I see that Balthazar dick checking himself out every thirty seconds.”

“Balthazar checks himself out on every remotely reflective surface.” Castiel lets loose a deep chuckle, and Dean’s shame only grows. “He bought me expensive mirrored aviators for my last birthday just so he could watch himself while we talk. You should see how polished he keeps his silverware. I assure you, Dean. That is a normal window.”

Dean groans and drops his face into his hands. This is mortifying.

“How else did you suppose I recognized you?” Castiel asks.

“I figured you walked by me outside the building,” Dean muffles his response into his palms. “You never seemed to be looking at me when I was watching you.”

“So you _were_ watching me!”

Dean doesn’t have to see Castiel to hear the smirk in his voice. Dean can’t imagine this being any more embarrassing - he might as well ‘fess up to it all.

“Do you know how many burgers I had to eat to figure out your gym schedule?”

Castiel reaches over and pulls the hands away from Dean’s face, resting them between his own. Dean lifts his head to look at Castiel.

“Where is your Baby tonight, Dean?”

“Parked at home,” Dean mumbles, confused at the change in topic. “I walked here.”

“Good.” Castiel has managed to deepen his voice into a register that approximates sex coated in molasses. Dean’s body can’t seem to decide if it’s excited or terrified by that. Judging by the way his dick twitches and his chest constricts, it’s probably both.

Dean swallows in a gulp, hoping his voice will come out louder than a squeak, “Why’s that?”

“There’s no street parking at my building,” Castiel says, slowly intertwining his fingers with Dean’s, “and I want you to come home with me tonight.”

Dean tries not to squeal in delight — he wants to at least pretend that there’s still a way to come out of tonight with a shred of his suave reputation. “What about Balthazar?”

Castiel fishes his phone out of his pocket with his free hand and swipes open the screen, showing it to Dean.

 **Balthazar:** Terribly sorry darling, but I won’t be making it tonight. Please enjoy the plaid-wrapped gift I sent in my stead. Kisses! (For you *and* him, you naughty scamp) xoxox

Dean frowns in confusion. How did Balthazar know he would be here? Maybe the dude saw them here and decided to hightail it in the opposite direction. Whatever the reason, Dean’s not exactly about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He crumples the remnants of their dinner into a ball and tosses it into the trash before turning to meet Castiel's piercing gaze.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

 

* * *

 

They manage to take the walk to Castiel’s apartment like civilized adults. They discuss the weather and sports and debate the upcoming increase in fares for public transportation. It’s all perfectly respectable conversation. They let their clasped hands swing between them and any passerby might take them for a normal couple out on a normal date.

When they arrive at the building, a charming art deco triplex, they hold the door for an elderly neighbor who lives on the main level. Castiel helps her bring groceries into her unit while Dean flirts shamelessly with her. She calls him incorrigible and giggles when she wishes them both a pleasant evening, telling Castiel to hold on to this one.

They make it all the way to Castiel’s front door doing a phenomenal job of imitating calm, collected men who aren’t about to jump each other’s bones.

The moment the door clicks shut behind them, that all changes.

 

* * *

 

The majority of Castiel’s apartment passes by Dean in a blur. He’s sure that there must have been walls and furniture and artwork in there somewhere, but if he were sworn by oath in a court of law, the only thing he could truthfully recall would be the touch and taste of the man in front of him.

Dean was certain he left home today fully clothed, but now he’s nearing half-naked and writhing against the wall of— this must be the hallway outside Castiel’s bedroom. He’s already stripped down to nothing more than his jeans and an undershirt, and Castiel won’t stop pawing at his waistband. Never mind that the sexy fucker hasn’t removed so much as a sock at this point.

“Shirt. Off.” Castiel growls against Dean’s lips. “Pants, too.”

Dean can’t say no to a man in charge, and he’s already complied with Castiel’s command before he even thinks to be self-conscious. Then he hears Castiel’s soft gasp and looks up to find him staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Dean lowers his eyes to inspect the soft tummy that Castiel is no doubt ogling. Maybe if he’d spent less time outside the gym, and more time inside it, he wouldn’t be so—

Oh no.

Dean’s wearing his panties. They’re blue and lacy and he kinda likes ‘em.

So what if he has a stash of satin and lace and frilly little things hidden at the back of his underwear drawer? Sue him! There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have a private little thrill all for himself. Something soft and secret just for Dean. It’s not like he’s any less of a man because he likes to feel beautiful sometimes.

It’s just that he wasn’t expecting to be sharing that part of himself with anyone else.

Dean feels the shame of a full-body blush burn across his skin. He glances up to meet Castiel’s gaze, a rush of excuses dancing on his tongue.

“Cas— I—”

“You’re beautiful,” Castiel whispers, the sound so faint that Dean’s not sure it was real.

Words die in Dean’s mouth, and he blinks at Castiel. Castiel isn’t disgusted by Dean’s secret pleasure. In fact, Dean can see the flush that’s starting to rise up Castiel’s neck as he lets his eyes linger on the sheer material pulled taut against Dean’s half-hard cock.

An authoritative sexpot with a body like that _and_ an appreciation for Dean’s lingerie fetish? Dean doesn’t remember buying a lottery ticket this week, but he’s definitely won the freakin’ jackpot.

As fast as he can move, he’s pushing forward and tearing the clothes off Castiel’s body. They grope and kiss and stumble their way to the bed. Castiel almost falls once as his pants pool at his feet, but Dean just lifts him out of them and throws him onto the mattress.

Castiel’s eyes flash with lust and Dean feels a swell of pride. Castiel has a long, lean body sculpted through years of distance running, but Dean ain’t no slouch himself. Dean places his hands along the waistband of Castiel’s boxers and looks him direct in the eye, searching for permission.

“Take them off,” Castiel says.

Dean lets his face-splitting grin convey just how happy he is to obey.

Castiel raises his hips and allows Dean to slide the underwear off his legs. Dean doesn’t even try to stop the wanting moan that escapes his lips. The sight of Castiel’s cock, hot and heavy against his thigh, is more than Dean thinks he can handle. It’s the first time Dean’s ever been so close to a cock that wasn’t his own and he’s overwhelmed by the curiosity of how it might feel against his tongue.

Dean strokes down Castiel's thigh and feels the muscle tremor beneath his palm. He lowers his head and presses his lips against the shivering flesh. He never thought skin could taste so sweet. Dean slides his hand up Castiel's leg and lets his fingers grip into his flank, kissing his way up as he moves along Castiel’s body.

Castiel’s fingers dance along his neck before tightening into his hair. “Do you trust me to take care of you, Dean?” Castiel asks.

“Yes,” Dean murmurs against Castiel’s skin, the word little more than a breathy moan. “Please.”

With surprising strength, Castiel flips them in a single, fluid motion, sinking them both down into the nest of blankets. Castiel rolls himself up to cover Dean’s body, leaning down to whisper against his ear.

“I’ve been imagining this for a very long time,” Castiel says. He lets his hot breath ghost across the shell of Dean’s ear, causing his hips to buck up from the mattress. “I want to know what it feels like to come hot against your body.”

Dean’s eyes roll back into his head and he moans into the side of Castiel’s neck. His cock strains against his panties, the wet, leaking tip trapped against lace.

Castiel runs one of his long, graceful fingers along the outline of Dean’s cock. “You look so good like this,” Castiel says. “You always look so good, Dean.”

Dean pushes his hips up, trying to grind against the soft touch of Castiel’s hand.

“So good for me, Dean,” Castiel coos. “Do you like being good for me?”

Dean whines and writhes, pushing his body up and along Castiel as he tries to prove how good he can be.

“Yes,” he nods. “Let me be good for you.”

Castiel takes his cock in hand and gives it one firm stroke before fisting his fingers around the head.

Dean licks his lips at the sight above him, anticipation building. He watches as a thick, clear bead of precum leaks from the tip of Castiel's cock. Castiel sweeps one long, beautiful finger through the fluid and slowly drags it to Dean's waiting lips. Dean uses his tongue to lap at the finger, gently swirling around the tip before sucking the whole thing into his mouth.

Castiel pulls his hand back before surging forward, burying his fingers into Dean's hair and kissing him rough and hard.

Breathless, Dean pulls back. "Do you like that?"

"What?" Castiel asks, nipping at Dean’s kiss-bruised lips.

"Feeding me your come. Licking it off my tongue." Dean kisses his way to Castiel’s ear and whispers, “Making me yours.”

Castiel growls, pushing down against Dean and straddling his hips. Dean lets his himself lay back and enjoy the view. Castiel is wild and powerful, panting and gorgeous. He’s everything that Dean has dreamt of and Dean’s willing to give him anything. All Castiel needs to do is take it.

“I’m going to make you come, Dean,” Castiel says. “I’m going to wring every writhing moan out of your beautiful, shaking body, and you’re going to thank me for it. Understand?”

Dean bites his lip and nods furiously.

Castiel starts running his knuckles up and down the sides of Dean’s ribs. “You have to tell me, Dean. I’m going to give you everything you want tonight, but you have to tell me that it’s OK.”

“Yes,” Dean agrees. “Give me everything I want.”

Castiel smiles a slow, sloppy grin and places a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips. “Good boy.”

Castiel kisses down Dean’s neck; licks along his collarbone; trails his wet, hot mouth across Dean’s chest. When he reaches Dean’s nipples, he opens his mouth and lets the damp, warm breath pulse against the sensitive skin. Dean shivers at the sensation, feeling heat start to pool deep in his abdomen.

“You like that?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Castiel’s tongue darts out, and he laps at Dean’s nipple, letting his fingers twist and play with the other. Dean twists in the sheets, fisting a hand into Castiel’s hair in an effort to ground himself. It seems like they’ve barely begun, and Dean can already feel himself approaching the brink.

“Cas, dammit. You feel so good. Please. More.”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel chuckles against his skin, fingers still twisting and soothing Dean’s nipples, “moan for me. Just like that.”

“ _Castiel_ ,” Dean begs. “ _Please._ ”

Castiel sits up again, pulling Dean’s free hand into his own. Dean stares in wide wonder as Castiel brings their joined hands up to Dean’s mouth. He folds down fingers until just Dean’s index and middle finger are pressed against his lips.

“Suck,” Castiel commands.

Dean smirks. He’s happy to let Castiel be in charge, _more_ than happy, but that doesn’t mean he can’t put on a show of his own.

Dean parts his lips, letting his tongue take a tentative swipe at the tips of his fingers. He moans and drags the flesh of his bottom lip along their length, making sure to brush his mouth against Castiel’s thumb as it grips his palm. He makes sure that he has full eye contact with Castiel before taking both fingers deep into his mouth and humming.

Castiel’s eyes flutter shut, and Dean swears he feels the man tremble. “Good,” Castiel says. “Very good.”

Dean smiles around his fingers. Nothing makes Dean feel better than a satisfied partner.

Castiel take a few deep, steadying breaths and then re-opens his eyes. “Sit up, Dean.”

Dean shifts under Castiel, pulling them both into a seated position, Castiel straddled along his hips and their cocks trapped between them.

“Are you comfortable, Dean?” Castiel asks, softly stroking along Dean’s jaw.

Dean feels his eyes drift closed. “Yes.”

Castiel’s hand drops away, and he places a kiss to where Dean can still feel his phantom touch. “Good boy.”

Castiel is slowly rocking his hips down onto Dean, and Dean’s not sure how much longer he’ll last. Between the lace and the praise and _Castiel’s fucking body_ , he couldn’t be any harder if he tried.

“Touch me, Dean,” Castiel says, and Dean begins to run his hands all over Castiel’s hard chest and hips and ass. Castiel grabs the same hand as before and raises it to his own lips. “No.” He sucks Dean’s fingers into his mouth, wetting them once more, then lowers them behind his body. “ _Touch me_ , Dean.”

Dean sucks in a surprised breath when his fingers push against the ring of muscle between Castiel’s firm cheeks. Dean pets at the opening, letting his calloused fingers catch at the rim. He feels Castiel hiss against his chest and Dean’s cock twitches in response. He’s so close now.

“Cas,” Dean whines, “‘m close.”

“Good, Dean. Touch me, Dean _._ ” Castiel rubs his face against Dean, the brush of his sweat-soaked hair igniting sparks along Dean’s heated skin. “ _Please_ , Dean.”

Dean brings his fingers back to his mouth and spits on them, wetting them as much as he possibly can. He pulls Castiel’s hot, trembling body in line with his and pushes the barest tip of his finger into Castiel.

Castiel kisses him hard, pushing against Dean’s hand and making wild, desperate sounds. It’s too much. It’s everything all at once. Dean can’t hold himself back any longer.

“Good boy,” Castiel gasps, and Dean spills himself into his panties.

“Fuck,” Dean groans, almost embarrassed at how he’s basically come untouched. Or at least, he would be if that weren’t one of his more extraordinary orgasms in recent memory. “Fuck, Cas. _Fuck_.” He pulls Castiel impossibly closer, letting the euphoria of post-coital bliss wash over him as the come on his softening cock leaks through the lace of his panties.

Castiel moans, raising Dean from his reverie. Dean’s wits come back to him and he realizes that he still needs to take care of Castiel, “Cas, let me—”

“No,” Castiel mumbles.

“Cas, seriously,” Dean says. “Let me—”

“I said _no_ , Dean.”

Wait. Is Castiel mad that he came without permission? Dean doesn’t want to ruin his future chances with Castiel with this one stupid orgasm. He really likes the guy, dammit.

Dean pulls back from Castiel, trying to catch his eye. As he separates their bodies, Dean feels more sticky warmth than he would have expected. He looks down and sees that his chest has been painted in come that isn’t his own.

Dean laughs, pressing giddy kisses into Castiel’s hair. “So that’s how it feels when you come on me.”

A small, sleepy grin crosses Castiel’s lips, “Good boy.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel is drifting to sleep, shower-clean and wrapped tight around the warm curve of Dean's body, when his phone begins to ring.

"Ignore it," Dean mumbles, rotating to press his face into Castiel's chest.

"I'm sorry," Castiel apologizes. "It's Balthazar's ring and he doesn't let himself be ignored. If I don't answer, he'll just show up to deliver whatever message he has in person."

Castiel retrieves the phone from his discarded pants and presses it to his ear. "Balthazar, this better be important."

"Oh good!" Balthazar chirps, "You sound exhausted. I take that to mean you've got a sizable pile of denim and flannel heaped at the end of your bed. How is our freckled country boy this evening? Appropriately fucked out?"

"That's not of import," Castiel grumbles. "Is there an actual reason for this phone call?"

"Of course, darling! Of course! I need you to check out an email that I've just forwarded to you so that I can have your profuse gratitude in the morning." Castiel rolls his eyes at his cousin's presumptuous nature. "Now, I really must run, Cassie. Kisses!"

Castiel should ignore Balthazar's request and snuggle back into Dean, but his curiosity has been piqued. He accesses his email and clicks through to see what was so urgent.

When he sees that the contents are an ad and its response, Castiel has to laugh.

Dean stirs, lifting his sleep-mussed head to see what has Castiel so amused. "What's s'funny?"

Castiel shows Dean his phone. "Were you aware of this?"

Dean squints at the screen, brow furrowed. "The fuck?"

Castiel watches as horror dawns on Dean's face.

"Oh shit, Cas. I'm sorry man, but that wasn't me." Dean's beautiful even when he's flushing with embarrassment. Maybe especially so. "I don't even know how to work Craigslist. If I had known—"

"It's fine, Dean." Castiel tries to soothe Dean with a quick, reassuring kiss. "It seems Balthazar took it upon himself to play matchmaker on my behalf. Perhaps your friend Benny has done the same?"

Dean scrubs a nervous hand down his face in a way Castiel finds overwhelmingly endearing.

"Sonovabitch," Dean mutters. "Those assholes. Trust me Cas, Benny didn't act on this one alone. This stinks of a certain meddlesome redhead."

Castiel raises a curious eyebrow, but doesn't press for more information. Instead, he wraps his arms around Dean, letting his hands cup Dean's soft stomach and slotting their legs together. He kisses the base of Dean's neck, burrowing his nose in the fine hairs and inhaling Dean's scent.

"Don't worry," Castiel says. "We can plot your revenge tomorrow."

 

* * *

 

It's another Missed Connection Friday, but Charlie's heart just isn’t in it this week. It's been total radio silence from Dean since last Saturday, and now her usual power trio is reduced to a measly dynamic duo. Benny's great company and all, but Charlie really thought she would have heard from Dean about the set up by now.

Maybe she should admit that tricking her best friend into a semi-blind date wasn't her most brilliant plan. What if Dean wasn't ready to face his latent bisexual urges? She hopes he's not mad. Although, in her defence, Benny was totally complicit in their little scheme.

Ugh, the last time she questioned her decision-making skills like this was when she paid her own actual hard-earned money to the see The Phantom Menace in theaters.

She scrolls through the Craigslist ads with none of her usual enthusiasm, listening to Benny hum as he cooks in the kitchen. She's about ready to throw in the towel and just go join him, when a link catches her eye.

 **A Beau for the Queen's Handmaiden, mm4mw**  
You were the nosey redhead and bearded bear who were supposed to be my friends. I was the innocent target of your devious machinations. He was the sexbomb along for the ride.  
Lucky for us, we got burgers and _laid_.  
(P.S. See you tonight. The trio's about to be a foursome.)

"Benny!" Charlie squeals in excitement, flailing at the screen. "Come look!"

Benny saunters in from the other room, leaning over the back of her chair to read the ad on her tablet.

"Well, whaddya know," Benny chuckles. "Mission accomplished, Red." He presses a kiss to the top of her head and pats her shoulder before walking back to the kitchen.

Charlie smiles at the screen. Damn right, mission accomplished. She knew it would work! Never doubted herself for a second. After all, there's a reason she's the Queen.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on [tumblr](http://destielsexparty.tumblr.com/post/114930600627/burgers-plaid-by-viscouslover-au-explicit) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/viscouslover?lang=en). Visit me! I'm nice.
> 
> Thanks, as always, are due to the gorgeous and talented peeps of [ECKC](http://www.rimmingurlsforstatusandpower.tumblr.com) who provided me with endless support and beta services while writing this story. Amigos, this porn's for you <3


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